


beat beat beat beat

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smutty Sherlock/Molly drabbles inspired by random song lyrics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beat beat beat beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maejones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maejones/gifts), [MetricJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetricJenn/gifts), [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts), [MissClaraOswinOswald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissClaraOswinOswald/gifts).



> So I recently had a bit of writers block for an erotic scene I was writing in a longer fic, and I decided to open up my ask on Tumblr and the Sherlolly fandom on the website to ask them to give me a random letter, which I would then use to pick a song title and then choose a lyric from said song. In return I would gift them with a NSFW paragraph length fic that featured Sherlock and Molly. This is a collection of all but two of those paragraph fics (the two I held back on posting are going to be expanded into longer fics).

  
**OneRepublic, “All The Right Moves”**  
“ _They’ll be the King of Hearts, and you’re the Queen of Spades / Then we’ll fight for you like we were your soldiers_ ”  
&  
**The Smashing Pumpkins, “Zero”**  
" _You blame yourself, for what you can’t ignore / You blame yourself for wanting more_ ”

He knew it wasn’t fair to her, that it wasn’t right to leave her again. But this time…this time he was going against Moriarty to keep her safe. No other reason. Not for John and Mary, not Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson, not his brother or parents, not for Queen and country. For _her_. For Molly. He kissed her again, trailing kisses down her jaw line as she moved her hands to his trousers, undoing the button and lowering the zipper. When she freed his erection into her hands and stroked him for a moment he almost lost his train of thought. He fixed that by moving his hand to her skirt, lifting it up to her waist and pulling her knickers down, teasing her with his fingers while she sat perched on the edge of her desk.

It should all be different; there should be more time, he should be pleasing her, taking the time to learn each inch of her, pleasuring her until she begged for him to take her. Hell, at the very least there should be a _bed_ in all of this. But he needed her, he needed her so badly. and as she let go of him and he positioned himself, as she wrapped her legs around him and he entered her with a thrust, as she moaned his name before he captured her lips with a kiss, he knew he would fight his hardest to end this war with Moriarty once and for all and find his way back to her.

  
**t.A.T.u, “All The Things She Said”**  
“ _‘Cause I’m feeling for her what she’s feeling for me / I can try to pretend, I can try to forget / But it’s driving me mad, going out of my head_ ”

It wasn’t safe for them to be together. To the unobservant eye, they had to appear to be nothing more than friends. Even better if they appeared to be just acquaintances. The less important she appeared to be in his life the safer she would be. But she invaded his thoughts when he wasn’t focused on something specific, and he craved the times when they could be alone, the brief bits when he could kiss her, taste her skin at the nape of her neck, feel her palms on his chest, when he could shudder as her nails dug into his shoulders while he buried himself deep inside her quickly, as he covered her mouth with his own to muffle her moans as he brought them both to mutual release. He lived for those moments but, for now, he had to take them fleeting as they were and rely on replaying them in his head at night when he ached to have her next to him.

  
**Boy Crisis, “Dressed To Digress”**  
“ _I wanna be makin' you scream like a car alarm_ ”

Molly had always been quiet and timid the entirety of the time he’d known her. He’d imagined that she would always be that way. But the first time they were together intimately, she panted and moaned, said the most deliciously naughty things that heated his blood. She begged him for more, pleaded for him to go deeper, go harder, go faster, to just fuck her senseless. And he’d obliged, culminating in her shouting his name in her release, a sound he swallowed up by capturing her mouth with his as he came inside her, and he knew then that there would be no sound sweeter to his ear than timid, mousy Molly demanding he bring her to orgasm.

  
**Madonna, “Express Yourself”**  
“ _Make you feel like a queen on a throne_ ”

The leather whip had been a joke, a gag gift from Mary after she’d told her friend about the first time she and Sherlock had shagged. “To get him to obey,” Mary’d said with a laugh. She’d shoved it in her drawer and forgotten about it until Sherlock went rooting through while she was packing for the trip. He held it up, cocking an eyebrow, and she’d blushed and stammered until he handed it to her, handle first, and told her that he was hers to command. She held it thoughtfully and then told him to strip down to his skivvies, slowly, so she could watch. She stood in front of him as he took off each piece, and when he had everything off she told him to get on his knees. He did, his face at just the right height for a bit of fun, she realized. When she ran the whip along his bare shoulders, just to see what his reaction would be, the look of pleasure on his face surprised her. He was always so good at making her tell him what she wanted; now, it seemed, the tables were turned.

  
**Stop Making Friends, “Fear”**  
“ _Are you scared of the end? / Are you scared to begin? / Are you scared of the start? / Do you think they’ll break your heart? / Do you think they’ll break your heart?_ ”  
&  
**The Kills, “Cheap And Cheerful”**  
“ _I’m sick of social graces / Show your sharp tipped teeth_ ”

“You keep doing this, Sherlock!” she said, looking at him. She was so frustrated with this round and round game they played, where they danced around their feelings whatever they were. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer. “You say I’m important, you treat me like I mean something, and then you just act as though I’m not there. What am I to you? Once and for all, just bloody _tell_ –” She didn’t expect his lips on hers or the searing spark of electricity that jolted through her. She didn’t expect the fierce arousal in the kiss or the heat pooling in her lower abdomen as she pressed herself as close as she could get.

“I need you,” he said, pulling his lips away from her, his breath hot and heavy against her ear. She could feel his erection pressed against her, and knowing she had that effect on him, that she could do that to the always cool and collected Sherlock Holmes…it made her euphoric. She nodded, reaching for him and pulling him in for another dazzling kiss as their hands began to work at shedding the clothing that was an unwelcome barrier between them. She needed him too, needed to feel her breasts against his chest, needed him to bury himself as deep inside her as he could, needed to leave her mark on him, a tangible sign that said “Mine, you’re mine, you have been and you will be, always.” She needed him like she needed her next breath.

  
**Tove Lo, “Habits (Stay High)"**  
“ _Staying in my play pretend / Where the fun ain’t got no end_ ”  
&  
**Lorde, “A World Alone”**  
“ _I feel grown up with you in your car_ ”

It had been spur of the moment. Long drive out to the country, Molly had been a bit frisky with her hand wandering on his thigh. He’d seen the secluded turn on the road and suggested the dalliance there. There was relative anonymity for a quickie but the thrill of maybe getting spied upon in public. She was all for it. The logistics took a bit of working out; he was a bit too tall to be comfortable in the backseat and she couldn’t get at the best of angles to take him in deeply or ride him hard without hitting her head on the top of the car. In the end he lounged in the back as she knelt between his legs, taking him into her mouth, and he knew full well once she’d swallowed every drop he’d return the favor when she was the one on her back and he had his face buried between her thighs. He just hoped their luck held out and none of the locals caught them trying their hand at being reckless teenagers out for a drive in Daddy’s car, hoping to be randy without getting caught.

He had his hand in her hair, not pushing not pulling, but settled there, fingers tangled in the strands. She used her mouth so well. He had his head lolled back against the window when she added her hand, playing with his sac, teasing it in just the right way. He wanted to shut his eyes and savor the moment but he had to keep vigilant; there was a thrill in all this but consequences, too, if they were caught. But then she took him deeper and for a moment he forgot about being vigilant as his hips bucked and he tried so hard not to fuck her mouth, and a moment later he felt himself come, felt her swallow every last drop of him before sitting up with a satisfied smile on her face. She crooked her finger at him before leaning back, lifting up her hips and shimmying out of her knickers, and he knew then that even if they got caught it would all be worth it if he got her so caught up in the moment she screamed his name.

  
**Marilyn Manson, "I Put A Spell On You"**  
" _I put a spell on you / Lord! Lord! Lord! / 'Cause you're mine_ "

He had to have some magical powers of some sort, because she couldn't stop thinking about that night. It had been a mistake, a drunken shag that never should have happened. But it had been a rough case and everyone had left off with someone else and it had just been the two of them and a bottle of tequila, a bag of limes and a shaker of salt. His kisses had tasted like salt and lime and his skin tasted like sweat and musk. She had expected him to be rough and demanding, or for it to be a sloppy shag like the drunken experiences she'd had in university, but he had taken his time, been tender and caring, practically worshiped her. She had never felt more wanted, never felt more prized or beautiful, and he whispered her name by her ear when he brought her to the most dazzling orgasm she'd ever experienced. They'd gone to sleep tangled in each other and the sheets, and she had been fully intent in repaying the favor in the morning, only he was gone, leaving her alone. He'd avoided her since then, much to her disappointment. And now, as the witching hour approached and she was destined to spend another restless night with her hand between her legs and the memory in her mind, her phone buzzed with a single text message. She reached over and picked up her phone, seeing it was from Sherlock. _Please. I need you. SH_ She set her phone down and didn't bother putting her pyjamas back on before going to the door, just her dressing gown over her naked body. She needed him, too, and all his bewitching ways.

  
**Iron & Wine, “Jezebel”**  
“ _Lay here my love / You’re the only shape I’ll pray to_ ”

He loved waking her up in the morning by pleasuring her. She was a sound sleeper and he was not and she tossed and turned and twisted so the sheets and duvet were already twisted and mostly off the bed. He would start off by gently coaxing her onto her back and spreading her legs apart; if she allowed him to do that, if she was awake enough to realize what was to come next then he would continue, burying his face between her thighs and lavishing her with attention, teasing her with tongue and fingers until she writhed beneath him, grasping at what sheets were left, panting and moaning his name. He never expected it in return, never demanded it of her; this was his way of worshiping her body and it was his silent thanks to her for putting up with him and all the trials and tribulations he put her through.

  
**Ludacris, “Jingalin’”**  
“ _I’ll bang out that head board so much, we’ll make the bed ache_ ”

They actually broke the bed. He couldn’t believe it. True, her headboard was ancient, having been in her possession for years and years, but he hadn’t meant to pull so hard at the bonds at his wrist. He’d been the one to suggest them, to see if he could endure the sweet torture of having her in complete control. He’d expected her to take him deep inside, take her time riding him slowly, prolonging the pleasure for them both, but he _hadn’t_ expected her to take him in her mouth, to suck and roll her tongue around him, to tease his shaft with her hand. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair…no, he _needed_ to, he _had_ to, and he pulled and there was a crack and that was how he ended up convincing her it was best if they shared one bed, his bed, at his flat. At least his bed had a reinforced headboard so this would not happen again.

  
**Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Kiss Kiss”**  
“ _Everywhere kiss me, everywhere kiss me_ ”

She had decided if she ever got the chance to shag Sherlock she was going to revel in seeing him stark naked. She was going to learn every inch of his body, feel it all, taste every inch of it she could. The first few times they were intimate he seemed hell bent on worshiping her, and she loved it, the feel of his lips on her skin, especially on all the sensitive parts. But now it was time to return the favor. She pushed him onto his back and grinned at the look of surprise on his face before moving her lips to his neck. She kissed his pulse point, taking a bit of skin between her teeth and sucking it gently. She wanted to leave a mark, leave an imprint on his skin plainly visible to anyone who saw him. He groaned and moved his hands to her hair, and after she spent some time there she made her way further, moving lower and lower until she reached his erection. She wrapped her hand around it, marveling at the fact that he was larger than most men she’d been with but felt perfect all the same, and slowly began to move her hand up and down. She glanced up and saw his eyes were shut, his mouth partially open, his head tilted back, and so she decided to go further, taking him into her mouth. The guttural groan of her name and the tightening of his hand in her hair and the bucking of his hips told her that his was something that he did, in fact, quite like.

  
**Amanda Palmer, “Leeds United”**  
“ _Burberry vices, all sugary spices / It’s nice but it’s not what I’m after_ ”

She had been with “nice” men. She knew what “nice” men could give, what she could expect. And it was fine, she supposed, but she wanted more than that. Sherlock was nice, at least to her, but he wasn’t “nice.” He was still a prat to most people, he still had an ego the size of a small planet and a huge chip on his shoulder. He still had an air about him that hinted at a bad boy past. When she had gone home and fantasized about shagging him as she touched herself, working herself into a frenzy with fingers and vibrator, she imagined he would tease her until she couldn’t take it anymore, putting his long talented fingers to use. Then he’d take charge and drive into her with deep, hard strokes, taking his time about it to drive her mad, to make her beg and plead, and then when he felt like it to fuck her into the mattress until she was screaming his name. And years later, when she got the chance to experience Sherlock Holmes’s sexual prowess in person? She found her very vivid imagination had done a _very_ poor job of coming close to the gloriousness of reality.

  
**Ludacris feat. Nicki Minaj, “My Chick Bad”**  
“ _All white top, all white belt / And all white jeans, body looking like milk_ ”

Neither of them had expected the sudden downpour to drench them as they made their way to the village inn where they were to be posing as newlyweds. Well, “posing” according to what everyone else believed. In reality they’d been married six months now, done on the spur of the moment in Barbados while off chasing Moriarty. The white cotton T-shirt had plastered itself to her body, hugging each and every curve he knew so well, showing the white lace brassiere she wore underneath so tantalizingly clearly. When it came time to remove the sodden clothing she made a game of it, making him lay on the bed with his hand circling his erection, stroking it up and down as she shimmied and peeled off the clothing piece by tantalizing piece, his own private show before she joined him on the bed and let him touch what before she had only let him see.

  
**Krewella, “One Minute”**  
“ _and your back is like my scratchin’ post_ ”

He loved it when she ran her nails on his back. The exquisite pain of having her drag them across his skin when he teased her with long, slow strokes as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, or the piercing pain when she dug them into his flesh when he drove into her so hard that all she could do was hold on for dear life…they were her temporary tattoos on his flesh, her marks that showed he belonged to her, that he was no one else’s, and he bore them with pride. They were her marks, just for him, and he loved them as much as he loved the marks he left with his teeth on the tender flesh of her neck.

  
**Rihanna feat. Slash, “Rockstar 101″**  
“ _So baby take me in / I’ll disobey the law / Make sure you frisk me good / Check my panties and my bra_ ”

It had started off as a simple lesson on how to pat someone down. It was purely educational; she was assisting him, sometimes, they did things and went places where they might be meeting with armed people. A proper pat down was important. The suggestive quip about wandering hands under her skirt had slipped out before she could stop herself and he’d paused before looking up at her, a curious look on his face. She could see arousal in his eyes, a request for permission, and she gave him a nod. Slowly his hand moved up her thigh, his fingers edging the lacy trim of her knickers, and then they slipped underneath. He ran a finger along her folds and she felt her knees buckle slightly. A simple touch in her nether regions and she was all set to come on his fingers. What was wrong with her? But then he removed his hand and began to pull her knickers down, off her thighs and down to her ankles, before he popped his head under her skirt and went to work with his tongue. Oh, she was going to die right then and there, but it would _so_ be worth it. 


End file.
